


Waking Up

by Flubber



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Frustration, Fuck Solas, Other, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3798313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flubber/pseuds/Flubber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post game, Lavellan rises after falling for Solas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up

“I will not cry again,” She whispered, barely audible.

“Inquisitor-”

“I will not falter again,” She whispered, a face solid and cold as stone.

“Ellana, I can make you forget. Erase the pain, seal the memory, stitch the wound.”

“No,” She responded firmly, “No, I must remember, I must remember him.” She stared straight ahead, legs crossed at the foot of her bed and nimble hands untangling her dark hair from the straying braid.

Cole sat beside her, fumbling with his hands in the cold room. “A pain that lingers, sparks and simmers, dull and bright, loud yet muffled,” He spoke, “You will not forget, but _grow_.”

The spirit looked at her worriedly, hesitant to reach out and hold her.

“Can a spirit hold?” He asks abruptly, “Can I warm you with a _hug_?”

The Inquisitor laughed briefly, a sorrow stuck in her eyes with the unfamiliar manner, when she gently pushed a blonde lock from his eyes, “Thank you, Cole,” She smiled, small and not reaching her eyes, “I am warmed just by your presence.”

“I hope I helped,” Cole said dully, peering at his Inquisitor with glossy eyes, “I hope to help.”

“You did,” She continued to force a small smile, rising from her bed for what felt like the first time in weeks. She picked at a loaf of bread from a tray on her desk, chewing the dough slowly, surrounded by papers and half read books, she turned back to her bed and Cole was gone. Alone in her room once again.

She stretched her lithe body, waking her sleepy muscles after weeks of noiseless, unmoving, quietude. Weeks spent in the Fade, searching for a hint of him, his green magick, some tiny essence of his spirit. A part of her knew, behind her thin hope, that Solas would never leave a trace, if he wanted to be found he already would have been. She would already have him locked in an embrace, yelling her displeasures and confusion to him, begging for an explanation, shaking him awake and forcing him to look at her.

But she stood alone, lone but surrounded with the clamor and worry of those who continued to love her. Teary eyes watched her retreat to her quarters and into her dreams, calloused hands caressed her hair when she dreamt too long, a manicured mustache and strong horns urged her to eat and wash, even a shrilled laughter and another’s sultry voice greeted her in the evening, her favorite broken nose spinning her another tale of his beloved Hawke.

She listened to their voices, the unmistakable concern tied to each word and an almost pitiful sympathy in their eyes that made her chuckle at herself.

“A brilliant flower wilts,” Cole had comments that evening, appearing in the grand hall, empty of the Inquisitor, “Bare faced, no thorns-”

“Cole, please, not now,” Dorian pleaded, his head in his hands and a frown on his lips. The mindless chatter at the dining table paused, the nobles on the opposite side giggled and gossiped between themselves.

“Confused, caged, cast aside. Collected pages from a burnt book, wet with tears and what it all means, she does not know. He won’t let her. Who is _He_?”

The breaking of glass in a leather hand startled the table. The commander grumbled a string of swears as he collected the pieces, Dorian considered Cole’s words and the sharp edges of the broken glass pieces. His heavy chair scraped the hall floor, he pushed his plate away and made his way from the dinner to her quarters, through exasperation white magick lingered on his fingertips.

Varric chuckled solemnly, “This is the tower, she is the princess and we are her fiery dragons.”

“Would that make the dirty apostate her prince?” Vivienne stated with scorn, rising her wine glass to her lips.

Varric laughed, “In any good story, Iron Lady, the princess saves herself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cole is really fun to write, I hear his voice when I write his lines.  
> It may be more than one chapter, but I'm not sure yet. I have multiple ways in my head as to how Lavellan goes on after Solas.  
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
